15/3/90. The first time I took a folding dinghy on the Grand Union Canal I found it impossible to change my sitting position, even by a millimetre, except by holding onto the bank — when I tried that after three miles, I found myself under the water with one foot caught in a bag strap, and the buoyancy aid up round my head. I got everything out onto the bank except myself which needed the assistance of a man out walking his dog. It was dusk by then, but fortunately the Uxbridge Road was nearby and I got home to Brentford in a mini-cab from the Indian quarter of Southall. I took the outboard to Chas Newens Marine, Putney Embankment the following day for servicing against immersion, and the supplier reimbursed me for the boat immediately.

5/5/90. The second time I had a Sportyak dinghy purchased through the post and again transported it in an estate mini-cab to Hanwell, near the historic Windmill Bridge where the road crosses the canal, which crosses the railway, beyond the last of the series of the ten locks; the boat was much more satisfactory, although I didn’t have a proper seat. It was very hot, and for some reason the engine began to fail and I eventually had to keep the throttle low. However, I covered eight miles to the beautiful scenic area of Horsenden Hill, Perivale Mooring next to a narrow boat from Aylesbury (whose owner had an air pistol to deter hooligans), when I telephoned for a mini-cab to collect me at the Black Horse, Oldfield Lane, Greenford.

4/8/90. The third canal excursion after returning from the Gloucestershire cruise, was also a mixed success (and I’d left my boat chair in Lechlade) although I was more confident after 190 miles on the Thames.

DESCENDING. On the journey from Perivale at 3pm to Paddington — at launching I immediately found a heavy sack of rubbish round the propeller. When I passed a group of uniformed Fire Brigade Officers on the bank, I amused them by pointing at one that was probably a woman and gesturing a female figure with my hands; I seemed to be a focus of interest for the bankside public house garden clientele. A pleasant stop was made at a large modern supermarket beneath a motorway flyover at Shepherds Bush, where I spoke to a West Indian and had refreshments; there was a panoramic view over railway lines and Wormwood Scrubs where my mother was born.

BREAKDOWN. But, as Little Venice (where I saw the canal boat festival on the 6th of May and went by passenger boat through tunnels to London Zoo) approached, engine trouble developed. After seeing Paddington Basin, I inspected the water pump and lost some of the gear oil in the process. I then struggled back past the moored house boats in twilight before cleaning burnt oil off the cylinder head. An unemployed man from Manchester, whose Dolphin Class cruiser cost £150, came along the path and told me inflatable dinghy owners travel the furthest on the canals (even disused ones); I think they must go two to a dinghy or it would be too heavy carrying round the locks.

The cause must have been using oil-rich fuel to lubricate the bearings after it submerged, and the advice I was given was to use 50:1 not 100:1 oil to petrol, because the engine then started up well and I headed west in the dark instead of camping on the bank.

NOCTURNAL. It was a frightening experience because I had to keep over to the right hand bank away from anglers’ fluorescent floats, but there the lights of office buildings reflecting in the water made it seem like the edge of the world, or Niagara Falls, but by midnight, I’d done eight miles in two hours, and camped out on the bank at Horsenden Hill.

On Sunday I headed off for the Bulls Bridge junction with its houseboats, where I turned south. It would be possible to travel north, but with urbanised scenery till beyond Watford, one lock per mile, uphill over the Chiltern Hills and the obstacle of the 1¾ mile long Blisworth tunnel, it might be better to post E.T. to Stratford-on-Avon and come back along the scenic Oxford canal which only has one lock per 1½ miles and is downhill, and post it home from Oxford. Or since it takes less than a day to reach Weybridge on Thames, the Wey navigation and Basingstoke canal are possible.

LOCKS. Starting at 10am in hot weather I now had my first experience of pulling E.T. round locks on its two pram wheels — total weight 80lbs; ten locks in three miles at Hanwell taking 16 minutes per lock. It was possible to use Brentford lock since I arrived there at 2.30pm when it was close enough to high tide (3.10pm) having spent some time eating blackberries and investigating the River Brent; even though downhill, it was heavy going. The many houseboats at Brentford were evicted by B.W.B. in autumn 1990.

THAMES. The gates of the Thames Lock were open so I headed east on the Thames for the first time in daylight, since there was some time to spare before the tide left the slipway at Lots Ait. I had a close encounter with a fire brigade launch when passing under Kew Bridge that caught me unawares, coming up from behind and circling round Olivers Island from where I was able to see Chiswick Bridge, before disembarking at 4pm, having covered thirty miles.

‘PHONE HOME.’ On the slipway I encountered a young architect who told me the tidal inlets there by the Watermans Theatre, are to be developed as a mariner leisure centre — he seemed embarrassed when I asked him whether the architect was a famous man! I hope they keep the slipway.

At long last E.T. had successfully descended to Little Venice!